Always Family
by TheCartoonusMaximus
Summary: Short stories about the Arclight Brothers. Family-oriented fluff. No pairings.
1. Always Family

**Hey, guys! Been awhile since I put anything new up. I keep trying to work on my stories that are in progress, but that's not going anywhere right now. But, since I've been watching a fair amount of the "Zexal" series over the past week, I thought I'd do a really short something for some of my favorite siblings in the show, Quinton, Quattro, and Trey. This one focuses on Quinton, mainly, but here's hoping I'll get to do some things for the other two as well sometime soon.**

 **So, yeah. Enjoy, everyone!**

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"Always Family" 5/2/2015 a "YGO: Zexal" fanfiction

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Chris stumbled into his bedroom, tired after his long day of tutors and social encounters. Being the oldest son of a well-known, wealthy family and being the heir to the family name and business wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and the young Christopher Arclight spent too many hours of his days immersed in studies of liberal arts and becoming acquainted with others of his social status in hope that they might someday become good business partners. Young ladies were often pointed out to him in the hopes that he should court them and so get in good with their parents.

But, every night, Chris would do the same thing. He'd stumble into his bedroom and throw all of that behind him. He would lie awake and read his favorite science fiction books, or watch marathons of Star Trek or Star Wars. He'd play around with his Duel Monster cards, wishing that he had someone to duel against in person, and not just over an internet chat room. And sometimes, like tonight, he would lay in bed with a sketchbook, drawing out science fiction images.

Aliens, space ships, laser cannons, and other fanciful creations flowed from his pen as he sketched. He created whole worlds on nights like tonight, and there was almost nothing he enjoyed more.

Well, almost nothing, he reflected as his door was thrown open, two small figures running into his room. They didn't ask permission. They didn't need it.

"Christopheeee!" The smaller of the two, a pink-haired toddler, squealed as he rushed to the side of the bed. The child tried to climb up the side of the bed, becoming frustrated when he was unable to do so due to his small stature.

Chris laughed, leaning over to gather the toddler up in his arms and pulling him to sit on the bed beside him. "Hello, Michael."

"Cannonball!" The other figure yelled, his voice much too loud for indoor use. The five-year-old boy took a running start from the door, launching his small body into the air and landing on his feet at the end of Chris's bed. He bounced up and down on the mattress a couple of times, his mixed red and yellow shocks of hair waving up and down with each movement the energetic child made.

"You shouldn't jump on beds, Thomas," Chris scolded his brother lightly. He reached over, grinning as he grasped the giggling boy by the ankle, pulling him down onto his butt and tugging him across the bed. Thomas fought him a little, kicking his legs even while he squealed with laughter, not minding the mildly rough treatment in the least. Chris chuckled as he began to tickle his younger brother, tormenting the boy.

Yes, these were the moments he loved the most. The moments where he wasn't young Lord Christopher Arclight, son of Lord Byron. The moments where he wasn't just a young man known for his family name. The moments when he was Chris, a boy with a head for science and math and a passion for science fiction, where he was the older brother of two wonderful little boys.

 ** _~ [V] ~ [IV] ~ [III] ~_**

Chris sighed contentedly as he reached over Thomas's head a few hours later, turning off his bedstand lamp. Thomas and Michael were each snuggled into his sides, Michael sucking on his thumb cutely while Thomas snored lightly on the other side, drool leaking from his open mouth.

They should both really be put back into their own beds to sleep, but Chris didn't care about that right now. He simply lay back bed, wrapping both his arms around the smaller figures and holding them close.

He was dimly aware of their father opening the door a crack, smiling in a loving fashion as he looked over his three sons. They were all Byron had for family, now that their mother had been dead for two and a half years, Chris reflected. It had been hard on them when she died, their father especially. Chris had had to step in for his father, Thomas, and their new baby brother more than he'd ever done before.

His eyes drooped as Byron closed the door again, turning and walking down the hall, quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping children.

Chris held his brothers closer as he drifted off. They were family, no matter what. And nothing would break them apart.


	2. Control

**Another one for my favorite numbers brothers trio, just because I felt like it!**

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"Control" 5/2/2015

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A 5-year-old Thomas Arclight sat at the foot of his older brother's bed. A stack of colorfully decorated paper bags sat beside him, homemade toys with painted faces, yarn hair, button eyes. Stickers, scraps of fabric, pipe cleaners, and googly eyes finished off each figure, each bag representing a person.

The child laughed as he played with his hand puppets. He moved his arm, opened and closed his hands... He controlled the puppet. That's what made it a puppet.

Control... This was something the child didn't have. Over anything. His father, Lord Byron, was in control over their household, and the staff only obeyed him. Thomas and his younger brother Michael obeyed their father, their older brother, and their shared nanny.

In day to day life, Thomas himself felt like little more than a puppet. Controlled, bossed around, told what to do and what not to do. That's why he needed his toys so much; to give him something he could have control over.

Chris, the oldest child of the family, set aside the thick book he'd been reading, standing from his desk and walking over to sit beside the younger on his bed. "It's getting late, Thomas. Aren't you ready for bed, yet?"

The boy shook his head violently, golden bangs slapping against his small face. "Don't wanna go to bed. Wanna stay up and play."

Chris frowned, but didn't argue. Instead, he moved to stroke his brother's unruly hair, combing out all of the tangles.

"Hey," Chris whispered after a minute. "Your birthday is next week, you know. Any ideas of what you'd like?"

Thomas frowned, involuntarily relaxing under his brother's gentle fingers. "... Control."

 ** _~ [V] ~ [IV] ~ [III] ~_**

Thomas's birthday came around the following week, and his father paraded him about on his shoulders, playfully introducing him to each staff member as 'the new young master.'

The cook surprised him with cupcakes, little chocolate cakes with strawberry icing and the proud numeral '6' printed on each one.

Laughing, Lord Byron seated the youngster on his favorite armchair, wrapping the boy in a fur-lined play cape and placing a plastic crown on his head, and the staff addressed him as "my lord" and "your highness" and other such words. Chris only smiled and tussled his hair, Michael balancing on his hip.

Lord Byron and the staff all left the room, their father announcing that it was time to bring presents for the birthday boy. Chris went to follow them, but the little one in his arms put up a fuss when Chris turned to leave, and only quieted down when placed in the chair beside Thomas.

"Michael likes _me_ best," Thomas said, smirking to the older boy. Chris scoffed, rolling his eyes as he left the room. Thomas laughed, pulling the giggling Michael into his lap and kissing his pink head.

Lord Byron and Chris came back shortly, each one carrying many boxes. The boxes were all lavishly decorated, and came in a variety of sizes. Eagerly, Thomas lunged at the pile, opening them each one by one.

There were clothes and coloring books and crayons, and even a set of paints from his father. Chris had bought him a deck of playing cards, from the Duel Monster line that he loved so much. Thomas stared with fascination at the cards, having never seen anything like them; Chris had many cards, but they were planets and battleships and spaceports. These... these were puppets and dolls and toys, figures that he immediately fell in love with.

"Teach me, big brother! Teach me!" Thomas cried out, launching at his brother and hugging him. "Teach me how to play cards like you!"

"I will," the older promised, beaming down at the younger. "Now go open the rest of your gifts."

The next box held something else that fascinated Thomas to no end. It was a state of the art marionette, a jointed wooden figure with strings and a controller. It was only about ten inches tall and had no clothes or face, but Thomas would soon fix that.

Lord Byron held out the last box, this one with a special tag that read "to my darling Thomas, love Mom."

"You mother wanted you to have it," his father explained. "She never got a chance to give it to you."

With an air of reverence, Thomas carefully removed the paper, as though afraid that his mother's gift would crumble and vanish if he didn't mind it properly. Within the box was a vintage doll, with a lacy dress and a beautifully painted porcelain face. Glass eyes with long lashed, rosy cheeks and rose pink lips smiled up at him pleasantly.

"It was your mother's first doll. It was a gift from her mother, and... she knew how much you liked dolls and such."

Thomas gaped up at his father, taken aback by the beautiful gift. He hugged the doll to his chest, wanting nothing more than to hold her forever. "Thank you..."

Control. That was the one thing he wanted, more than anything. But... maybe love could be a good substitute... just for a little while.


End file.
